


Coming Down  by Katrina Bowen

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair's been up for day's grading finals, and works himself into such a state of exhaustion that Jim has to put him to bed....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Down  by Katrina Bowen

Typical disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended, for entertainment purposes only, no monetary gain sought or anticipated, you know the drill. 

Gratitudes to James Walkswithwind for convincing me to write this, for suggesting button flies, for drawing antennae on the conclusions, and for giving me a last line. 

## Coming Down

  
by Katrina Bowen

Jim shrugged into his jacket and shot a careful glance in the direction of the couch. While the piles of exam booklets scattered around him had formed a new pattern, Blair himself seemed to be in the same position he'd been in since last evening; cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the large atlas he was using as a makeshift desk. No point in even asking if he was going to the precinct today. 

Walking over, Jim nodded a little to himself. Rather than the pile of empty cola cans, there was a cup of lukewarm coffee beside Blair. He'd smelled it perking at about four, so Blair must have gotten up at least once. "You're going to freeze in that position if you're not careful." 

Blair finished scribbling comments in the margin and tossed the exam book onto the pile on the couch. "Tell me about it." He pushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned back against the couch, letting his head rest on the cushion. 

"So what is it now, four days since you've gotten any sleep?" Jim pushed an empty pizza box to the side. 

"I'm a grad student, Jim. This is what we do. Besides, I slept Sunday afternoon. It hasn't been that long." Blair rubbed his eyes and grabbed another exam book. 

"It's Thursday morning, Sandburg. Good thing you're not grading math papers. Believe it or not, they're starting to miss you down at the precinct. You haven't come to work with me all week, and they want to know what happened to you. They think you're getting bored being an observer." Jim snagged the coffee cup on his way to the kitchen. 

Without looking up, Blair muttered, "I'm not done with that." 

"Calm down, Chief." Jim went into the kitchen, dumped the cold coffee down the drain, and poured two fresh cups. Bringing them back, he said, "So how much longer do you think this is going to take you?" 

Stretching his arms above his head until Jim could hear bones creak and tendons stretch, Blair said, "I'd better be done by tomorrow morning -- that's when the grades are supposed to be posted." 

"Couldn't you pass some of them off to someone else? You've been working on this for about twenty-four hours straight. And since when are you supposed to grade *all* the anthropology tests?" Jim took a drink of his coffee and tried not to wince as Blair cracked his knuckles loudly. 

"Half of the anthro department is either out of town or down with the flu. Somebody's got to finish grading these, and I'm the only one around." 

"I still don't think you should be doing it all yourself." Jim set down his coffee and picked a booklet off the top of what was apparently the "finished" pile and flipped through it. 

Blair looked up at Jim, bleariness mixed with irritation. "Yeah, you're right. I'll stop right now. And when we get a couple hundred undergrads calling up, asking why their final scores aren't posted, I'll just give them your number at the precinct and *you* can explain it to them. How's that sound?" 

"Not good ... but I'd rather do that than explain to this student what you mean by accusing her of froggy reasoning." 

"That's not funny, man," Blair muttered. "I know I didn't write that." He looked up uncertainly. "Did I?" Without a word, Jim dropped the booklet in his lap. "Oh, man," he groaned. 

"Just take a break, Sandburg. At least get up and move around a little," Jim said as he headed for the door. "Order another pizza or something. That usually cheers you up." 

"Later, maybe," Blair said, waving to the pile of booklets in front of him. "I'm pretty close to done anyway. If I'm lucky, I'll be through by the time you get back." 

"Uh-huh." Jim eyed the stack skeptically -- he wouldn't have called it close to done, but there didn't seem to be much point in mentioning that. "I'll see you tonight, okay? It might be kind of late." 

"Yeah," Blair said absently. "Watch out for bad guys ..." By the time Jim reached the truck, he could hear Blair scribbling something and mumbling about idiot freshmen, and he grinned. The kid would probably still be sitting in the same spot when he got back.  


* * *

**What now?** Jim thought as he got out of his truck. Someone whose face he couldn't place was trying to close the door of the apartment while balancing a large box at the same time. "Can I help you?" he asked as he walked up, not bothering to hide his irritation. 

The young man -- one of Blair's friends, Jim had no idea what his name was -- jumped and almost let the contents of the box slide to the ground. "Jesus God!" He gave Jim an accusing look. "You always go sneaking around in the dark scaring people?" 

"Yeah. I'm a cop, it's part of the job description." He leaned over to look in the box; it seemed Sandburg really had managed to finish grading all the exams. "What kind of shape is he in?" he said with a jerk of his head to the door. 

"Pretty wasted," the other replied with a shrug, shifting the box so he had a better grip. "He kept on talking about frogs. Look, man, it's fun talking to you and all, but I've got to get back to the U, get these sorted out by morning." With an abortive wave, he went down the sidewalk. 

Jim went inside and stopped dead. At least Blair wasn't in the same spot, but he hadn't moved far. He was sprawled on the couch, one arm over his eyes, absolutely motionless. There was a new pile of pop cans on the floor, a few torn chocolate bar wrappers mixed in for variety. So his guide wasn't just coming down from a caffeine high, he was also sleeping off a major sugar rush. Stepping over the heap gingerly, Jim reached down to shake Blair's shoulder. "Hey. You still with me, shorty?" 

"Hmmph." Blair moved his arm just enough to expose one eye; focusing his blurry gaze on Jim, he grinned a disconnected, loopy grin. "Hi. I'm finished." 

"Looks like. How'd the grading go?" Jim straightened up and dumped his jacket over the arm of the couch. 

"It was great. It was really ribbeting." Blair started giggling uncontrollably. "Get it? Froggy reasoning ... ribbeting ..." 

"Yeah, I get it. What time did you get done, anyway?" 

Pushing his hair away from his face, Blair blinked very slowly. "What time is it now?" 

"A little past nine thirty." 

"Wow ... " Blair's voice trailed off and his eyelids drifted shut again. 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Just go to bed, Sandburg." 

" 'Kay." Blair didn't move. 

Jim looked down at him. God knew, it wasn't like he didn't fit on the couch, but if Blair spent the night there he'd wake up stiff and sore. Making his decision, he grasped Blair's arms and gently pulled him into a sitting position. "Come on, Chief." 

Blair didn't open his eyes. "Wha? Where are we going? I don't want to go anywhere, Jim." 

"Sure you do." Jim eased him to his feet. "You want to go to bed, right?" 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess ... " Blair allowed himself to be steered around the couch. He kicked a pop can as he shuffled over the floor, and his eyes slowly opened again. Looking around dazedly, he said, "This place is a mess." 

"Uh-huh." Jim put his hands on Blair's shoulders to urge him forward, but the younger man didn't budge. 

"You want me to clean it up?" He turned around to pick up the can, and would have fallen if Jim hadn't latched onto his arm. 

Jim closed his eyes, trying to remember if there was a patron saint specifically for people who had to deal with grad students suffering from sleep deprivation. He couldn't think of any, so he just said, "You can do it in the morning." 

Blair nodded and started walking again. "Thanks. That's really nice of you, Jim." 

"Just don't get used to it," Jim muttered. Leading Blair to his bedroom, he pushed the door open, hit the light switch and gave Blair a light shove. "Get some rest, Chief. I'll see you in the morning, all right?" 

" 'Kay ..." Jim waited long enough to see Blair make a weaving path to his bed and start shoving the books and papers covering it aside. Closing the door behind him, he headed back to the living room to turn off the lights. **God, what a mess.** Not having the heart to look at it, he decided to go up to the loft. He went over to the stairs and made it as far as the first step. 

"Jim ..." 

**I didn't hear anything.** Jim went up two more steps. 

"Jiiiiim ... I need some *help* here." It was almost, but not quite, a whine. 

**My Sentinel senses are turned off,** Jim thought desperately. Three steps more. He stopped and waited. 

"Jiiiiiiiiim ..." Silence. Jim stayed where he was. A soft thud, softer cursing. Jim sighed and went back down, muttering "I could probably guide myself by now, why do I put up with this?" 

Pushing Blair's bedroom door open again, he went in. "Okay, Sandburg, what's the problem --" He stopped, stared, and took a deep breath. Blair was sitting on the floor, one arm pulled out of his sweatshirt, the other still twisted in the soft cloth, his head entrapped somewhere inside. 

Shaking his head, Jim walked over to him. "For God's sake, it's not rocket science." Pulling Blair to his feet, Jim eased him to a seat on the edge of the bed. "Hold still, okay?" Sliding one hand under the sweatshirt, Jim took hold of Blair's trapped wrist and guided it out of the sleeve. He pulled it over Blair's head, leaving the long curls even more disordered than they'd been to begin with. As Blair tried to shove them out of the way, Jim looked for a place to put the sweatshirt, finally just tossing it on the floor. 

"Thanks, man ..." Blair bent over to untie his shoes and overbalanced again. Jim grabbed his shoulders and helped him back up to the bed. **Damn.** It looked like if Blair tried to undress himself, he'd end up in the emergency room. Jim wasn't crazy about the situation, but ... 

Kneeling at the side of the bed, he unlaced first one shoe, then the other, and pulled them off. He noticed that Blair was only wearing one sock. Straightening up, he reached for the waistband of Blair's jeans. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Calm down, shorty. I'm just taking off your jeans." 

Blair frowned and tried to stand up. "I can do that." 

Jim pushed him down again. "No, you can't. Trust me." 

Subsiding immediately, Blair leaned back on his elbows. "Oh. Okay." 

Jim smiled a little in spite of himself. Even when he was being his most irritating, Sandburg was ... Jim stopped himself before he could finish that thought. He got the first button open all right, but he fumbled with the others. Blair squirmed a little. 

"Knock it off, okay?" Jim sat back and contemplated the matter at hand. Concluding there was only one truly efficient way to unbutton someone else's button flies, he carefully slid a hand into the waistband of Blair's jeans. To his annoyance, Blair started squirming again. "I said knock it off, didn't I?" 

"Uh-huh ..." Blair nodded, but he didn't stop moving. "That tickles, man!" 

"Yeah, well, I'm not enjoying it any more than you are." 

Blair propped himself up again; sounding a little offended, he said, "I didn't say I wasn't enjoying it." Jim shot him a sharp look, but Blair was laying back again, yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes. 

**I knew he was out of it, but ...** Working as fast as he could, Jim finally got the jeans unbuttoned. He eased them off and dumped them on top of the sweatshirt. He decided against trying to get Blair's underwear off. "Okay, Sandburg. That's it, get into bed." Being careful not to dislodge any of the books that took up most of the space, Jim scooped Blair's legs up and slid them under the covers, pushing the younger man flat against the mattress. Blair muttered something, curled up on his side and was instantly still. 

**Finally. At least he didn't ask for a bedtime story,** Jim thought as he turned off the light. He wasn't particularly tired himself yet, but if he watched television -- or did anything else -- he ran the risk of waking Blair up again, and he didn't want to go through the whole routine twice. 

He went upstairs and got ready for bed himself, moving as quietly as he could. He turned off the light, laid down, and stared at the ceiling. For a moment he listened for Blair's heartbeat and breathing; deciding that he would stay asleep until morning, Jim allowed his thoughts to wander. 

Yes, they'd asked after Blair at the precinct, but in a joking way. It was Jim who'd started to miss him. He'd gotten used to Blair hanging around, sticking his nose into things, being generally difficult. Like tonight. **Sandburg's a grown man, if he doesn't have the sense to go to bed, it's not my problem.** But that hadn't stopped him from taking care of the kid, Jim thought ruefully. He could have just tossed a blanket over him and gotten on with his life. But no, he had to help Blair find his bedroom, he had to peel of his clothes, he had to tuck him in. And now he had to lie here, trying not to think of how Blair had felt in his arms, sleepy and pliant and agreeable. 

**Damn.** Jim put his hands over his eyes and did his best to ignore the stirring in his groin. He tried to convince himself that what he was feeling was just an overreaction, that his senses were bound to be overstimulated now and then. He tried to forget that Blair hadn't said he minded Jim's hand down his pants. It didn't work. His last thought before finally drifting off was, **Like my life isn't complicated enough as it is?**  


* * *

"Jim!" Blair was shaking his shoulder urgently. "Jim, wake up, this is important." 

Startled out of sleep, Jim shot into a sitting position. Blair hadn't turned the light on but he could see him clearly anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed, hair all over the place, still wearing only his underwear. "For God's sake, Sandburg, what's the matter now?" Jim demanded. 

"I can't sleep," Blair said mournfully. 

Jim glanced at the clock. Past one o'clock already. "Try a little harder," he growled. 

Blair shook his head. "I did. I can't stop thinking about it." 

Knowing he'd regret it, Jim asked anyway. "Thinking about what?" 

"Superman." Jim sighed and laid back against the pillows. "No, man, I'm serious," Blair said, the urgency still in his voice. "Look, Superman is invulnerable, right? I mean, nothing can hurt him." 

"That's right, Chief. Glad to see you're reading something besides textbooks." 

"Yeah. But he's also stronger than anything, right? Right?" Taking Jim's silence for assent, Blair went on. "So what would happen if Superman went really crazy and tried to hurt himself? I mean, if he wanted to, could he, like, pull off one of his own fingers or something like that?" 

Jim sat up and stared at Blair. "You're kidding." 

Pushing his hair aside, Blair nodded and gave Jim a significant look. "See what I mean? I just can't stop thinking about it." 

Sighing, Jim closed his eyes. "We can talk about this later. Just go to bed, all right?" 

"Okay." Jim felt Blair stand up, and he started to relax. He tensed up again when he realized where Blair was going. "What the *hell* do you think you're doing?" 

Blair looked at him in confusion as he made himself comfortable beside Jim. "You told me to go to bed." 

"Your bed, Sandburg. *Your* bed." 

"Oh ..." Blair shrugged. "Too many books on my bed -- I keep on rolling on top of them. It hurts, Jim," he said pathetically. "That's what kept on waking me up. You have any more pillows?" 

Jim hesitated, then pulled one of the pillows from behind his own head. **I could always smother him with it ... nah. Too much paperwork.** "Look, no offense, Sandburg, but don't you think this is taking the whole Sentinel - guide thing a little too far?" 

"Mmmhmmn." Blair took the proffered pillow and snuggled into it. " 'Night, Jim," he mumbled. Just as Jim was wondering if *he* should try out the couch downstairs, Blair sighed, stretched, and rolled over so he was cuddled against Jim's side. 

**Oh God. I'm trapped,** Jim thought in panic. He remained perfectly still as Blair threw an arm over his chest and wriggled closer still. Without trying, he could sense the difference in texture between the hair on Blair's chest and the longer, softer strands pressed against his shoulder. The beat of Blair's heart, slow and steady as it was, seemed to pound against him. The warm breath whispering across his chest was unbearably arousing, and if he tried just a little harder, Jim knew he'd be able to sense Blair's blood as it traveled through his body. 

Jim kept as still as possible, waiting for Blair to fall into a deep enough sleep that he could be moved back to his own bed without waking up. It seemed to take hours -- in fact, it was almost four o'clock before Jim judged Blair wouldn't wake up if he was moved. Then, just as Jim got ready to sit up, it got worse. 

Muttering something indistinct, Blair hooked one leg over Jim's and cuddled closer still. Through the thin material of his shorts, Jim could feel Blair's cock pressed against his leg. He was still soft and sleepy ... which was more than Jim could say for himself. 

Jim shifted position a little, trying to ease himself away. He felt Blair frown against his shoulder, and the arm around his chest tightened. "Ah, Jim, no," Blair murmured, still sound asleep. "Don't go ..." 

Moving as gently and carefully as he could, Jim dislodged himself and pulled away. Blair sighed and moved over to the warmth of where Jim had been. 

Standing up, Jim took a few steps back and tried to calm himself. This wasn't what he thought it was. He didn't want it to be, the lines were blurred enough as it was, this was the last thing he needed, he should have left Sandburg on the damn couch, then he wouldn't have to worry about this. 

Pulling on his robe, Jim carefully gathered Blair into his arms. Books or no books, he was going back to his own bed, and Jim didn't care if he woke up covered with bruises and bent pages. Enough was enough. Blair sighed a little and twisted one hand into Jim's robe, but that was his only reaction. 

Feeling very proud of himself, Jim started making his way down the stairs. Halfway down, Blair suddenly stirred in his arms, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. He stared around in alarm and started to struggle. 

Jim swore and let Blair's feet swing to the floor, but he kept one arm around his back until Blair got his balance back. "Take it easy, Sandburg, you want us both to break our necks?" 

"Jim, what the hell's going on?" Blair demanded. He pulled away and pressed himself against the wall. Looking down, he asked in confusion, "What happened to my clothes?" 

Seating himself on the stairs, Jim rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "They're on the floor of your room. Isn't that where you usually put them?" 

Relaxing just a little, Blair sat down and looked up at Jim. "What happened? The last thing I remember is you telling me to go to bed, and then I couldn't sleep ..." 

"Yeah. Superman's fingers," Jim said drily. 

"Oh, God." Blair leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. Jim didn't need his enhanced senses to feel the other's embarrassment. "I woke you up, didn't I?" 

"Yep. Then you crawled into bed with me," Jim said calmly. He wasn't altogether proud of himself, but seeing how awkward Blair was feeling made his own emotions easier to deal with. 

Blair had started to raise his head, but he froze. "Oh, God," he whispered. "Jim, I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have if ..." He trailed off uncomfortably. 

"You wouldn't have what?" Jim moved down a few steps so his head was level with Blair's. "Come on, Chief. If there's something you want to say, just say it, okay?" Blair wouldn't answer or look at him, so Jim went on. "If you'd been awake and thinking clearly, you wouldn't have dreamed of getting into bed with me? Is that it?" 

"Yeah." Blair nodded, but he still wouldn't look up. "Yeah, that's pretty much it ... No, it isn't." Blair took a deep, shuddering breath and wrapped his arms around his legs. 

Jim tilted his head and looked at Blair appraisingly. Utterly miserable, embarrassed, still half-exhausted ... and beautiful. That was all there was to say about it. "So how long has this been going on?" he asked quietly. "And why didn't you ever say anything?" 

Blair shrugged. "I'm not sure. I didn't want you to know -- it'd just screw things up." He finally risked a glance at Jim. "Wouldn't it?" Certainty and hope warred in his eyes. 

Jim looked at him levelly, and made his decision. "Maybe. Maybe not." Reaching over slowly, he rested the palm of his hand against the back of Blair's neck, letting his fingers thread through the long curls. Blair flinched but he didn't pull away as Jim tightened his grip and leaned closer. "I guess there's only one way to find out, though." 

"Jim, I don't want you doing this just to -- to make me feel better, okay?" Blair said in a small voice. Even as he said it, however, his hands moved up to clutch the material of Jim's robe. 

"Chief, since when do I do *anything* I don't want to?" Not giving Blair a chance to answer, Jim pulled him over, bringing their lips together. He'd intended to keep the first kiss brief, to give them both a chance to get used to the idea; but as he tasted Blair's lips, then his tongue, he realized that the last thing he wanted to do was pull away. And Blair, if the way he started fumbling with Jim's robe was any indication, felt the same way. 

When they finally separated, Blair grinned shakily and said, "Okay, that went pretty well. But, um ..." he started blushing again. "What do you want to do now?" 

"Well, for starters ..." Jim got to his feet and pulled Blair after him. "I've seen your bed, so we're going back to mine." 

"Oh." Blair let himself go up the stairs. At the top, he paused and pulled Jim to a halt. "Jim, wait a minute. What about ... geez." He took a breath and tried to focus his thoughts. "What happens in the morning? You know, what does this mean for you and me?" 

Jim looked down at him seriously. "I don't know. I guess we're going to have to figure that out for ourselves. But I'll tell you one thing that I *do* know ..." Blair closed his eyes as Jim trailed a finger along the base of his throat and bent down to trace the path with his lips. " ... You're still going to have to pick up the living room." 

"You're a hard man to live with, you know that?" Blair said as he untied Jim's robe. Looking down and trying not to laugh, he added, "Sorry, no pun intended." 

"Laugh it up, shorty," Jim growled as he pulled Blair back to the bed. "One way or another, you've kept me up all night ... now show me what you're going to do about it." 

"Gee, Jim. I really don't have the froggiest idea ..."  
  


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